


Of Loss and Oblivion

by GaboBlue1004



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellarke will be the death of me, But this is a Bellarke fic, Canon Compliant, F/M, I'm Sorry, Mention of past Clexa, Minor Finnarke, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05, Stream of Consciousness, because I LIVE FOR ANGST, it's messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaboBlue1004/pseuds/GaboBlue1004
Summary: Clarke takes count of everyone she has lost throughout the years. Like a ritual she has to conceal sleep and amidst the memories, she thinks of him.Her rock, her best friend and how he is the only place that felt like home.





	Of Loss and Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> A hot mess, that's how I'd summarized this fic, but I hope you like it. It came to me just like that, so it surely has a thousand mistakes. Have mercy on me, English is not my first language.  
HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND COMMENT IT, PLEASE.

She keeps count of every single person she had lost. She does this when she can’t get herself to sleep –which is _often_, to say the less.

She has no clear idea of when did she started to do it, but sometimes it feels like her soul –or what’s left of it –won’t find a rest until she recalls every single name, every single face. A reminder she feels she needs. Sorrow spilling from her core to the tip of her stomach, in the wide silence of an empty Earth with only Madi sleeping beside her, making soft little noises as she dreams.

Clarke can only pray to a Godless heaven that Madi never get to meet loss and regret like she has.

And so she starts, with an aching soul and a tight throat, muttering every name she can remember that night. Sometimes she remembers new ones, but some of them she cannot forget.

_Dad_, she thinks, trying to fight the tears at the sole memory of his smile as the pitch black of space swallowed him just like that.

Wells, _oh, Wells_.

She swallows hard as his smile flashes back in her memory amidst what feels like a lifetime, bathing her soul in a rain of shame and guilt she is sure she will never be able to cover from. Then names go wild, along with dissonant flashbacks and fading memories, like a deadly prayer.

Atom, Monroe, Fox, _Charlotte_…

Clarke closes her eyes as the prayer goes on.

Anya, all the grounders she crisped to ashes.

_Finn_.

There is… that’s when she can’t hold it back anymore. Tears start running down her face, silently, as they always do. She knows –_she_ _knows –_ that was the moment she became a monster. She, who murdered Finn, who had loved her but died anyway _by her hand_.

_“Thanks, princess…”_ the wind seems to whisper those words in her ears but that’s only the beginning.

Clarke recounts, as she does every night, all those calamities she was to blame for_. From Tondc to Mount Weather._

President Wallace, all the innocents, children, allies…_ friends._

_Maya_.

She takes a moment to whisper her own name_ Clarke Griffin, _the girl who died for Wanheda to be born.

Still, she feels the urge to go on for the names continue –those who died because of her, those she couldn’t save. And among that group, her heart pounds painfully at the next name.

_Lexa. _

Clarke feels her soul itching at the memory of her smile, and her voice, and her soft touch; the sweet taste of her lips, her passionate body, and those gentle caresses. Another tear rolls her cheek and she thinks of her eyes and for an instant is like she will sink into desperation again. It happens that whenever she thinks about Lexa, –and she always seem to be thinking about her, _somehow_ – Clarke wonders just how she managed to keep going after the sight of the woman she loved slipping through her fingers. _Again_, _because of her._

_Maybe life should be more than just surviving._

She used to be so certain about that... Then Lexa died and she felt so lost.... But life kept going nonetheless, as it always does. Even if there was a split moment when it felt like everything would end after Lexa. Soon enough she found out _it didn’t. _Death kept taking, and taking, and taking with no end. Friends and foes, all the same.

_Aidan, _poor Aidan, she cries to herself, breathlessly. The whole conclave, Lincoln, Luna, Roan.

_Jasper._

She is trying not to sob loudly by the time she evokes his smile. But Madi keeps sleeping peacefully, _thank heavens._

And as years pass, she wonders if she should add more names to an endless list. She tries not to, but she fails. It almost feels as if she could not lose more than she already has.

_Jaha, Kane, Nylah. _She can’t help but invoke them and she hates herself a little when she thinks of Octavia. When she thinks of her mom.

She needs to believe they are fine. Otherwise, she’ll go insane.

Clarke takes a deep breath as her eyes dig into the infinite sky and some more names come to her mind, like an omen. Just this time, she cannot even begin to consider pronouncing them, not even in her thoughts. _Because they are alive_ she says to herself, fists tight, eyes fixed on the unfathomably azure, and as she closes her eyes, she can’t help the prayer resonate in the most arcane corner of her heart.

_He is alive._

And the thought acts like a painkiller of all her torment. Just like Lexa’s memory sink her into woe, the hope of what’s above her seems to get her back to life. 

The same reason that kept her sane after _everything; _after Finn, after Lexa.

She never admitted it to herself then, when she still had him. But right there, in oblivion, it was impossible to look away from the simple truth.

_The heart and the head._

And for she knows she had lost so many things –things that won’t ever be fixed inside her, hollowness and voids she will have to live with until her last day– and she could endure all of them; she outlived every single adversity because even in the middle of an unfathomable suffering, she was _never_ alone.

_Together? _

_Together._

Clarke takes a deep breath as Madi shifts to the other side.

_“Is alright”_ she shushes, softly, pulling a strand of dark hair out of her child’s face _“I’m here. I’m here”_

Madi seems to placate in dreams, her breathing settling once again into a soft wheeze.

The blonde takes another moment to watch her daughter’s face and thinks on how she never dared to dream about becoming a mother. Not since she arrived on Earth. It pretty much seemed like an impossible thought, with that many wars to fight, that many people to keep alive. To bear a child, to raise another human being in such a ruthless world... _How could she ever do something like that?_ It would only mean another person she might lose.

_Love is weakness_. One of the many lessons she learned in the ground.

On her experience, love indeed was as lethal as a bullet. One that killed Jasper, and Lincoln and so many more. One that almost killed Octavia –_maybe it actually kind of did–_. It was love that took Finn away from her. And in the end, it was also love that killed Lexa herself. And unlike her, Clarke was unable to control the love she felt. What Clarke did control was how much influence that love had over her reasoning; she knew what was the main priority, and she always put that priority above everything else; _my people_, she had thought every time in the moments of doubt. When it came to chose between her first love and everyone else. _My people_, as she watched her mother almost choking to death in Polis, or back when she thought of the people in Tondc, or of Mount Weather. It was what she repeated on and on when she took the bunker and left Kane and Octavia to die in the Final Conclave. Clarke knew she could never stop loving her mother, or her friends, or her people as a whole but she was always able to put duty before love.

Or at least, she would_ always _try_. _

_And still._.. there was always something –someone– she could never trade, not even for the whole world. That one person she would give up anything for, the one she could not lose. Even though she had already lost so many... Just not him. 

_Never him._

That’s why she never thought about having children. Not for a split second. Wanheda could only afford to have _one_ weakness at a time.

Clarke gulps hard, not deviating her gaze from the sky. Now everything is different. She had found Madi –or perhaps it was Madi the one who had found her, Clarke wasn’t so sure how things happened but it didn’t matter that much – and the world had come into an end _once again._ She has no more battles to win, no more people to kill.

Wanheda can sleep peacefully and Clarke is now allowed to be at ease, to love her child. They are alone in the whole vast world and they _are_ home. She comforts herself thinking her mom and the rest are alive inland; she _needs_ to believe her friends made it into the Ring and are now living happily outspace.

And maybe if that’s true, she can be allowed to finally start again with Madi. To live a peaceful life in the Shallow Valley… _maybe_, she is to finally be able to rest. Perhaps peace is enough. Perhaps _life_ is enough_. _

_Except it isn’t._

Viciously, peace and happiness are not enough for her greedy self. Even with her sweet girl, who decidedly lightens her whole life, she is still _waiting. _She still spends every night waiting by the radio, looking up the sky, wishing with her hands turned into fists, like the little girl in the Ark that prayed for home. And she keeps praying for that exact same thing now again, in which feels to be a thousand years later.

And _viciously –oh, _viciously –, the only thing that come to her mind when she evokes that sweet thought, is a pair of brown eyes and the sound of that husky voice. A sturdy frame, warm and familiar, and big, calloused hands caressing her hair, clumsily.

Clarke can only sigh deeply in the thick silence of Earth. It is there, in oblivion, that she understands just how there is no home for her in the entire universe but Bellamy Blake’s arms. She knew from the moment he held her in the lab. Maybe she had known for long ago, but it is in that moment that she is certain. _Bitterly certain_.

_If I don’t see you again…_

_You will._

She needs to believe she will.

Clarke shifts where she lies as her hand wanders through the dark to reach something she soon finds. She takes it within her hand and press the button, her heart pounding “It’s me again” she whispers, and after telling a death channel about her day, she falls asleep at the memory of warm eyes, warm hands, warm heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you liked it? Did you hate it? Let me know, I'm dying to read your opinions, this is my first Bellarke fic.  
I just LOVE THEM SO FRIKIN MUCH!


End file.
